Three Canons
by Typedoutatnight
Summary: The Butcher. The Sole Survivor. The War Hero. An in-depth look at the closing moments on Torfan, Akuze and Elysium, and the different Shepard that each place formed.
1. The Butcher of Torfan

"You're sh-shitting me. Your ch-ch-childhood nickname w-was T-t-tinkerbell?"

Jane Shepard chuckled wryly as she stared at the incredulous look on Simmons face, somehow humorous, despite the blood caked around his mouth and in his facial hair.

"Yeah, yeah it was. But I mean, I think the oldest person in the gang was nineteen when I joined. We weren't much more than street urchins."

"Wh-why You're n-n-not much of a fairy LT." he shuddered. Jane grimaced. Even with the medi-gel she'd applied to stop the bleeding, she doubted that he'd last more than a few another minute or two. The varren had seen to that, tearing out a huge chunk of his leg and damaging his femoral artery. He'd lost so much blood already, it was a miracle he was still conscious. She glanced over at the rest or her squad, or rather, what was left of them. Miller and Rubio were the only ones still standing. Delmont was leaning on the former for support, and the three of them were keeping their rifles trained on the batarian prisoners sitting in a row alongside the opposite wall. But all of her remaining men were bloody, bruised and in need of medical attention.

 _Four-eyed bastards._

Jane shrugged at Simmons. "Nah, it was because I could tinker with anything and get it work. Or stop working." The ghost of a smile touched her lips. "And I had a left hook that could ring anybody's bell. Kids right?" She was kneeling next to him, one knee on the ground, the other up, like the knights of old kneeling before a king.

Simmons chuckled wetly, spitting blood on the ground and groaning. "I-I'm going to die, aren't I?"

Shepard blew out a sigh. There was no point in lying to him. "Yeah, yeah you are Simmons." _Just like Martinez did._ She thought. _And Gunnderson, Jordan, Vasilyev, Walsh, Kapoor and Choi. At least that sniper's bullet killed Choi instantly. She didn't have to suffer, not like the rest of you_. Walsh had taken a rusty shiv to the stomach. Vasilyev's face had been bashed in by a batarian war-gauntlet. Kapoor had gotten stuck in a trap composed of electrified barbed wire that shocked him every time he moved. Jane had shot him herself. And that was still nothing compared to what the other three had suffered through. She could still here Gunnderson, that giant of a man, screaming for his mother as blood and milky fluid ran out of his eye sockets. The less said about Jordan and Martinez the better.

 _Almost a full three-fourths of my squad dead._ _But goddammit we're going to get the mission done._

He nodded to her. "H-hey LT? Th-thanks for t-trying." And then he was gone, eyes staring sightlessly at the rocky ceiling above them.

Shepard stood slowly and ignored the blood staining her hands, her chest, her legs. It wasn't hers. She inhaled sharply and ran the simulation on her omni-tool again.

 _31.7 percent._

"Fuck." she swore under her breath. The number hadn't changed. It wouldn't have, but she tried again anyway.

"That bad eh LT?" Rubio said roughly.

"Yes." Jane replied dimly. "It's going to take my tool another five minutes to get through this door." she sighed. "But after that, if my calculations are correct, if we fail, the alliance only has a thiry-one point seven percent chance of winning this campaign." Her squad was silent as they processed that information. Behind that door, the slavers had nukes. Outlawed by citadel conventions, but then, the Hegemony wasn't bound by those. She turned and looked at the prisoner she figured was in charge, the one in the red armor that had done the talking.

" _You take prisoner now, yes?"_ he had said, her translator carving up his words. _That what alliance do."_ They had surrendered. Most of them were in bad shape, held together by hastily applied bandages. A couple were missing limbs. The result of grenades going off in cramped quarters. Most of them would probably die. The slavers main base on the surface had a tunnel network that ran for miles in every direction. Near as she could tell, they were roughly five stories down. They had dogged the batarians through the system for hours, losing squadmates at every turn. Traps. Varren. Explosives. There just wasn't enough time to send a bomb detail down first. Mechs. Sniffer dogs. Anything. Shepard's squad had drawn a short straw.

Though not as short as the squads that had gone before them and triggered most of the traps.

 _"The diyahak's in the cavern, they will not be taken. They would die before being taken. Set missiles. Boom."_

The nukes had been a rumor, more of an optional objective as they searched for the slaver's leadership. Until she'd interrogated that one. After that she'd started running simulations to figure out how bad things would get if the crazy fucks actually did it. It was worse than she had intially expected. Not only would every alliance soldier in the tunnels die, but the missiles were being kept near a fault line. If they went off, it'd change the surface of Torfan, and most of the people above them would die as well. Thirty-one point seven percent change that the alliance would come out ahead after that. And that was factoring in the canisters of nerve gas they had with them. Biological warfare. Also outlawed by citadel conventions. But it was the best solution she had been able to come up and the admiralty board had okayed it.

 _31.7 percent._

Jane knew what she had to do. Her squad prepped the canisters, the only way they could be sure not to damage any of the missiles while taking out the trash. Her hacking program forced the door to slid open by about a foot and she hurled the canister through, shutting it quickly and leaving the rest up to her calculations. Five seconds for the canister to go off. Between thirty and fifty seconds for it to permeate the room. Two minutes for anything breathing in there to die. Another minute for it to dissipate. Jane put on her helmet and sealed it, using her omni-tool to hack the door again and stepping inside. Rubio followed. "We're frickin heroes Shepard! You think they'll give us a medal for-Oh fuck. Oh fuck, fuck fuck." Rubio gasped, vomiting on the floor. He'd always had a weak stomach.

Jane said nothing, the pounding in her chest, in her ears blocking everything out.

There were missiles in the cavern. Three of them. Even though they were of a batarian make and model she could tell.

That wasn't what gave her pause.

It wasn't all the bodies on the ground, faces twisted in agony from the gas.

It wasn't that some of them were bound and gagged.

It wasn't even that some of the bodies were human.

It was how _small_ some of the bodies were.

Jane spun on her heel and headed for the lead batarian faster than anyone could have anticipated, wrapping her hand around his throat and jamming her pistol against the side of his head.

"WHY?" she roared. "WHY DID YOU LIE? THOSE WERE-" her voice caught in her throat as she tried to process it, thinking about the sacrifices the squad had made to get this far, just to...

"Didn't lie." He grunted, "Told you the _diyahak's_ \- fanatics would set bombs off rather than lose. You stopped them."

"THERE WERE CHILDREN IN THERE! HUMANS! TURIANS! BATARIAN!"

The batarian shrugged in her grasp and smiled thinly. "Where think you the slaves taken from Elysium? From the worlds hit after the Blitz?"

"Why didn't you tell me." she spat flatly, a cold fury gathering in her emerald eyes.

"Didn't ask. What problem? We live. You live. Human win b-"

She shot him in the temple before he finished speaking. His body hit the ground with a dull thump and Jane realized after a moment that the heavy breathing she was hearing was her own. She panted, eyes wide, staring at the puddle of blood forming from the crater in the batarian's head. She hadn't meant to shoot him, she'd just…

Jane turned to look at what was left of her squad. Miller and Delmont wide-eyed, Rubio staring at the corpse blankly and quietly telling the others what was in the chamber. The looks of horror and anger that spread across their faces was all Jane needed to see. All of them kept their rifles trained on the prisoners, most of whom sounded like they were starting to panic, chittering to each other in that godawful language that sounded like crushed glass. Jane felt the muscles in her face tense.

Then she shot another batarian and the rest of them got louder.

She said nothing, only moving slowly and methodically down the line, her pistol spitting death and her eyes cold and unfeeling. The squad stared wordlessly, but made no move to stop her. It was their vengeance as much as hers, only that she was the weapon.

Jane's Mark IV Kessler could fire fifteen times before needing to cool down. There were sixteen batarians in the room with them. All but one of them was dead within the span of a few minutes.

 _" You are the Kthaa de Torfan!"_ The last batarian in the line wept. _"Kthaa, kthaa!"_ Jane paused, if only because her pistol had overheated.

"What did you call me?" she asked him tiredly as her language program worked to figure it out. The slaver repeated the word, babbling it over and over, but her omni-tool couldn't give her an exact translation, not for whatever dialect he was using. It spat out livestock killer. Slaughterer. Cutthroat. It was only when her translation program said meat trader that it clicked for her.

 _Butcher._ _The Butcher of Torfan._

Jane nodded.

Then shot him between the eyes as soon as her pistol cooled down.

She stared at the carnage briefly before tapping her omni-tool.

"Major Kyle? Hackett? Sanchez? Does anyone read?" She coughed into her comm, suddenly feeling very drained. There was a hiss of static and then…

"Kyle here, I read you lieutenant."

"Mission accomplished." She responded hollowly. "All enemy contacts neutralized."

"We'll be sending search and rescue into the tunnels to find you. Where's Echo located?"

"Fifth level, two klicks west of the elevator. What's left of us anyway."

There was a pause on the comm before the Major continued. Jane wondered briefly if he'd heard the resignation in her voice.

"Casualty report, Shepard?"

"Delta's gone. So is what was left of Bravo. Charlie was wiped out before we even got down here." She replied wearily, easing herself against the rock wall for support. "Echo… seven KIA sir. Maybe nine if you don't get here soon. It's…there was a lot of CQC sir, a lot of the slavers had blades, archaic maybe, but it's a mess down here." There was a stunned silence on the other end of the line. She had expected one. So many soldiers wasted in the tunnels beneath Torfan's moon; to say nothing of the civilians.

She wasn't looking forward to explaining that one.

But it had been the right call. Hadn't it?

 _31.7 percent._

"C-copy that Lieutenant. Medical team on the way." The Major's voice floated out of it, stumbling over its words. He cared about the soldiers under his command. Always had. More than she did, or at least, she could hear them saying that now. Someone would have to take the fall for this massacre.

She figured it would be her.

 _31.7 percent._

Jane sighed and slumped over as the darkness started to take her.

Away from Torfan's godforsaken moon and into the blissful arms of oblivion.

* * *

 **Jane Shepard here is my Paragon Shepard, believe it or not. Engineer/Earthborn/Ruthless. This excerpt is my headcannon of the moment that defined her as having the Ruthless Background.**

 **Rough past and rougher start to her military service, but spends rest of her career trying to make up for her mistakes. She wears the title of Butcher with shame.**

 **Next chapter we'll take a look at my Paragade and another one of Shepard's Pre-game Service Histories. Stay tuned!**


	2. The Sole Survivor

It was always the same dream in the end. He carried with him.

Even on the rare occasion that it started off good, it never took long for it to devolve into a nightmare.

They were simple people. Just farmers. Eking out a quiet existence on a fringe colony.

The same accident that had given his mother cancer had given him powers beyond that of mortal men the same powers that every asari was born with, that most species in the galaxy were lucky to get at all.

The ability to create and manipulate mass effect fields with a thought.

Jonathan Shepard was a Biotic.

He was the talk of the colony after that for good and for ill.

His parents had spent their life savings to get him fitted with an implant. Something he'd never be able to repay them for. They'd wanted to give him the best and brightest future possible. His mother had insisted, even when the payments started to take away from her medical bills. Hannah was a good mother. You were born under a lucky star, she always told him.

She'd been dragged out of their home and shot in the street for being too weak to enslave.

His father had well-known around the colony. Best tasting produce at the lowest prices. He always said that it was a man's job to provide. For the strong to take care of the weak, not exploit them. Jon had been blessed, and he needed to use his powers to help people. Richard Shepard was a good man.

He'd been run over by a batarian shuttle, pushing Jon out of the way. With his spine shattered he'd whispered something in Jon's ear before he died.

And on it went as the colony was razed to the ground.

Old man Clarence?

Burned to death inside the general store, while the batarians laughed and barred the door.

Paula Fletcher, the girl that Jon had taken to the school dance not a week ago?

Raped until she passed out and then shot in the temple.

They were the lucky ones. Jon could see others being herded like cattle. The children. The ones that would last the longest as slaves. Something broke in Jon that day, and it became evident when he snuck up on a batarian and bashed his head in with a rock, biotically throwing the ones that came near.

Then they noticed him, took an interest in him over the other civilians that were trying and failing to fight back.

Biotics were valuable, and he was only sixteen.

But Jonathan Shepard was angry, and he'd just watched everyone he ever cared about get murdered in front of him. He'd also never had any training on how to use his abilities. His parents had been saving up to get him sent to a special school. That was yesterday.

The batarian's closed the distance and Jonathan reached deep within himself, willing his powers to do something, anything. He'd gotten decent at biotically throwing things over the last few years, practicing on rocks.

He reached out his hands with a cry of rage and then everything went away in a blaze of brilliant blue.

Years later, he'd find out that the trick he did was commonly referred to as a flare. Something usually only asari in the matron stage were capable of doing. He wouldn't be able to do it again for years.

As it was, using it the first time nearly killed him.

That was how the alliance patrol under the command of David Anderson had found him, shuffling around the town square in a daze, faintly glowing blue and covered in batarian blood.

Jonathan Shepard was a survivor.

That was then. Seven years ago.

Now, now he was on Akuze, staring hollowly at the blood drying on his boots as a new nightmare wrapped its hand around his heart. It had all seemed so simple. A fringe colony had gone dark. Jon had volunteered for the mission immediately. It hit too close to home. There was talk of it being slavers.

Some fringe elements that had survived the Skyllian blitz.

The alliance had sent fifty soldiers under the command of Captain Hendrickson to investigate, figuring that it would be more than enough.

They had been wrong.

It wasn't slavers. It was something far, far worse.

They had arrived at the colony to find it empty. Not a trace of a single person at first glance. Then they'd looked closer. Started seeing the smears of blood. The green fluid that was acidic enough to eat through metal dripping off of some of the prefabs. The footprints in the sand that ended at odd depressions in the ground.

Then Jones, _God rest his soul_ had spotted something blue and ropey, several feet long sticking out of the ground. Some kind of space cactus, he'd joked. Then it moved. It moved and there hadn't been any wind. And then Jones, that poor son of a bitch, had touched it. What had happened next was a blur for Shepard. It had wrapped itself around Jones and then erupted out of the ground, revealing itself to be at least several stories high in length. A massive insect of some kind, all tentacles and hard chitinous armor, and that blue ropey thing had been its _tongue_.

Jones disappeared down its throat before he had time to scream. The rest of the squad screamed for him and opened fire but to little effect. When the creature had slammed down into the ground to burrow away the force knocked nearly everybody off their feet and crushed Captain Hendrickson into a paste. Then when the ground started to shake all over the colony, they realized that there was more than one of the things.

That was then.

Two hours ago.

And the creatures had hunted them relentlessly, toothy maws never full, hunger never satisfied.

There were Four of them now.

 _Four._ Out of fifty.

And even though he was only a gunnery chief, Jonathan Shepard was the highest ranking officer left.

With a muted sigh, he tore his eyes away from his boots and looked at who was left.

Corporal Toombs, Private Reilly and Private Mason, counting himself that was it and Toombs was muttering to himself like he'd lost it.

He probably had.

The shuttles that had taken them down to the surface were all parked three clicks away from the outskirts of the colony. Less than two miles, but they might as well have been on the moon for all the good it was doing them. Two and a half hours of trying to get there, inching forward, finding safe places to stand, and never knowing where the ground would erupt next.

Who would _die_ next.

They'd lost Carter and Scott less than fifteen minutes ago. Carter had always had a nice smile. Jon had watched as that smile slid off her face, along with her skin and muscle.

He was going to miss her.

"We're fucked." Toombs muttered.

Jon nodded in agreement.

They stood on a small rocky outcropping, something that gave them a moment's respite from teeth under the sand. The creatures, giant mouths that they were, did not seem to enjoy tunneling through rock as much.

Of course, it could have been that the ones closest to them had their hunger satiated for a moment as they digested Carter and Scott. The shuttle was so close now. But they'd lost so many people just trying to make it as close as they had.

Forty feet away from salvation.

"We've got to go now." Jon said quietly. "I don't… the creatures have been quiet, but they seem to always know where we are. Maybe smell. Maybe they can feel the vibrations when our feet are touching sand. "

"Think we can all make the run chief?" Reilly asked with a note of hope in his voice.

 _No._ Jon wanted to say. But that wouldn't help anyone. "On three we run." He said instead. "Good luck and godspeed. One. Two…" Jon tensed his legs.

"Three!"

No sooner had they hit the dirt that a maw burst out of the ground, spitting venom in their direction.

A ball of acid exploded across Mason and he was gone with a short-bloodcurling yelp, rapidly melting away into a fleshy puddle.

"Keep moving!" Jon yelled.

Thirty feet away.

Twenty-five.

The ground erupted in a cascade of dirt and rock. Tendrils dragged Toombs out of sight before he could make a noise. Jon grit his teeth. He could mourn later. They could mourn later.

Twenty-five became ten.

They had a chance. A real goddam chance.

Reilly screamed.

 _No._ Jon thought in agony, spinning on his heel. Reilly was being pulled into the ground, one spindly tendril wrapped around his body.

Their eyes met briefly.

"Shoot me! Goddammit Jon, Shoot meee!" Reilly screamed as he started to disappear from view.

Jonathan's hand shook but he managed to shoot Reilly in the head. His corpse disappeared down the creatures gullet and then the monster reared out of the sand, turning its attention to Jon.

He was waiting for it. That cold fire was gathering in his chest again. He'd been one of six biotic soldiers in the platoon. But the others were all dead now. They couldn't throw, pull. Jackson had hit one with a warp and severed its tongue but it turned out their blood was acidic too, and he hadn't been able maintain the barriers over the people near him for very long.

But Jon was out of people to protect. And there was no need to worry about collateral damage. It lunged at him with a roar and he thrust his hands out with a roar of his own. The dark matter fields he was manipulating blew its head apart as its jaws closed around him.

The maw, for that was all it seemed to be, collapsed to the ground with a wet thump, insides spilling out its neck. Jon collapsed to his knees in exhaustion, the blast of biotic energy having worn him out. Can't rest. He told himself, getting to his feet and stumbling into the shuttle. He made it to the pilot's chair and pushed the controls wearily. It rose into the air and sped away from Akuze's surface in a matter of moments.

Then, and only then did Jon allow himself to weep.

Momma always said he was a born under a lucky star. And Pops? Well, his last words had about summed it up.

 _"You're gonna do something great one day, boy. You ain't gonna die 'till you do it."_

Maybe pops was right, but that didn't make the pain of being the sole survivor of another tragedy hurt any less.

But he'd carry this with him.

Just like Mindoir.

* * *

 **So here we have a look into the last moments of the tragedy on Akuze, the moment that made the sole survivor. This is my paragade shepard, a colonist/sole survivor/adept. As Always, reviews are welcome. Thanks for reading! When we return for the last one-shot we'll be taking a look at the Hero of Elysium, who happens to be my renegade!**


	3. The Hero of Elysium

Most kids have a vague idea of what they want to be when they grow up, running the gamut from astronaut to zombie.

Kids.

John Shepard was one of the exceptions. From the time he was a little tyke he knew exactly what he was born to be.

A soldier.

He might as well have been born wearing the alliance uniform. He'd been born aboard the ship his parents had been serving on at the time.

At three years old, he'd learned that his father had been killed by monsters. A couple years later, he understood that his father had died fighting turians during the first contact war, but monsters was all he'd been able to focus on at that age. He still considered them as such as an adult. Turians were the worst of the lot, but he didn't have much stomach for the asari or the salarians either. Krogan he could respect slightly more, if only because they knew what it was like to get screwed by the council races.

His mother Hannah continued to serve aboard the SSV Einstein, and he'd grown up on Arcturus Station with his grandparents, both in the military as well, but with desk jobs. He saw his mother in between deployments. He enlisted on his eighteenth birthday, much to the pride of his entire family. He'd gotten on the officer track quickly, showing a natural aptitude for leadership. His combat scores were impressive as well, marksmanship at the top of its class with pistols, rifles and shotguns. Since then, he'd made a name for himself; everybody knew who John Shepard was.

Or so he hoped.

Four years after his enlistment, he'd decided to use some shore leave to celebrate his promotion to Service Chief. Elysium. One of the jewels of the system alliance. With dozens of resorts, it was a tourist destination spot for many in the galaxy. Upon arrival, John had been a little dismayed to see just how many xeno's lived on the planet, but as long as they kept to themselves, he hoped his vacation would go smoothly.

That was before the fuckin pirate ships started bombarding the colony. Before they landed and the goddam batarians and turians and krogan and salarian and asari and turncoat criminal humans started pouring out of the shuttles and started stealing, killing, raping and burning and interrupted him while he flirted with the waitress at the bar he was at. Rachel. Cute girl.

Chalk it up to the universe deciding he'd had enough shore leave.

Or maybe just being in the right place at the right time.

He was a soldier. A human. But most importantly, he was a man.

And they'd stopped John motherfuckin Shepard from getting laid.

Plenty of reasons to get up and do something. And that he had, grabbing a gun from a dead security guard and opening fire on the pirates that tried to get into the bar. They'd died quickly, probably not expecting anyone to mount any kind of resistance. John had followed a straggler out into the street and started waging a one man war on the pirates on the block.

It was heroic.

And the thing about being a hero was that it drew people to you.

He wasn't sure when he noticed that he was getting help, but at some point his one man decision to protect the bar had galvanized others into action. Other marines on shore leave. A couple turian cops. An asari mercenary. Hell, even some of the civilians were getting in on the action. John didn't begrudge the xeno's that stepped in. If they were bent on helping, he could use the firepower.

Some fell. Some died. But they followed, without him asking to. He was the only person that seemed to have any kind of plan.

He had that kind of effect on people.

"Never leave a man behind!" He'd shouted, remembering all the old holo-vids he used to watch, and some of the civvies had started pulling the wounded to cover. They routed the pirates on the block. Then the next block. John fought all the way to the city limits, were someone had had the bright idea to form a barricade using vehicles; Military and civilian, skycar and shuttle. He'd seen some marines fighting there and got to them. Their commanding officer had been killed and they trying to fix the radio, trying to signal the second fleet, as the ships were stationed fairly close to Elysium.

John had asked them what they needed. They needed to halt the pirates advancing long enough to fix the tower.

That was how John found himself in his current predicament, commandeering an alliance mako from the barricade and meeting the advancing pirates head-on. He'd been doing pretty well until his gunner had gotten killed. Then they only weapon he had left was the Mako itself.

"Come on you apes, you wanna live forever? Cover me goddamit!" he growled into the comms.

John Shepard hated driving.

But he hated those who preyed on the weak more. And he hated aliens more than that. The Mako handled like shit, but it didn't stop him from mowing down a dozen pirates as he hurtled back and forth, crushing bone and armor under the wheels. He kept going until the enemy was dead or fled and then drove the Mako right into the gap of the barricade, sealing it off.

"That's not gonna stop them for long." Someone said over the comm. Shepard grimaced and looked out the window. Dozens of pirate ships were getting closer; they were coming back down for another bombing run. Then the one in the lead exploded into a massive fireball. Then another. And another. A cruiser flew by with a roar and a wild cheer rose from the ragged crowd.

"It's the alliance!" someone crowed. "We're saved!"

John grinned in spite of himself as he exited the Mako, keeping his back straight and his head held high. Couldn't let his adoring fans see how tired he was. It was all about image after all.

 _I better get a promotion for this._ He paused. _Make that several._

"That was…I mean…You're a hero." One of the women said as he drew nearer to the mass of people.

"You're goddam right I am. " John replied as a roguish grin stole over his face.

"So, you doing anything tonight…?"

* * *

 **And here we have the final one-shot of this little collection. John Shepard is my Renegade, a spacer/war hero/soldier. It always made a certain sort of sense to me for this background to be renegade. He's been raised military, and look how few of them are progressive thinkers. He's humanities greatest hero. Keyword, humanities.**

 **Thanks for reading! If you enjoyed this, keep a look out, I plan to use these three Shepards in different fics in the near future. And as always, reviews are welcome!**


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